


Thoughts are Blue (Eremin)

by xtheblueumbrellax



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Boys Love - Freeform, Character Death, Eremin - Freeform, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Many Mentions of Death, POV First Person, Sadness, Support Group, attack on titan - Freeform, bipolar character, erearu - Freeform, mature content, multi-chaptered, shingeki no kyojin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:12:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8240786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtheblueumbrellax/pseuds/xtheblueumbrellax
Summary: After his parents died, Armin had to move to a town practically in the middle of nowhere, which was pretty much okay with him, considering socializing with people isn't really his thing anyway.Now his grandfather is making him go to a support group that's created to help children cope with the death of a family member.He doesn't see why crying in his room with the door shut isn't considered therapeutic enough.He didn't account for a basketball to knock him over on the way to that support group.He also didn't account for a stunning brunette boy helping him up.And he most certainly did not account for those magnificent green eyes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, welcome to my first story on this site! I really hope you enjoy the first chapter. I am still getting used to the mechanics so I apologize for any mistakes, especially in the tags. Enjoy the EreMin! New chapter should be up relatively soon. Thank you so much.

"Ouch," I hissed, pulling my hand away from the glass vase that contained an array of deep red roses. My finger had pricked on one of the tiny thorns on the stem, which caused more pain than one would expect.

These roses were not lovely flowers.

"Someone clearly doesn't understand the meaning of 'Armin, don't touch the flowers,' even after I told you about three times," said my grandfather, who was sitting across from me at the table, eating his scrambled eggs. He chuckled, taking a sip of water.

"Grandpa, they're roses. One does not simply not touch a rose. Kind of irresistible."

"Do you now see what happens when you touch one?"

"That is not important," I said before taking a sip of water. "What's important is that I need a bandaid."

"You know where they are."

"Sassy today, aren't we?" I asked my grandfather before getting up and setting my empty dishes in the sink. 

After walking into the bathroom, I opened the mirror cabinet. I picked out a box of bandaids and took one out before unwrapping it, placing it on my finger. After tossing the wrapper in the garbage bin, I looked into the mirror and froze.

Everyone used to always tell me I looked like my father, even though I really didn't  
. My hair is longer and my eyes are bigger. My body is not built like his. Mine is thinner and more petite. But when I looked into that mirror, memories of my father began playing in my mind. Christmas memories. Birthday memories. Every day memories.

My breathing became choppier as I wiped away the tears, trying to stop the memories. 

Trying to forget is a piece of cake, isn't it?

I slammed the door shut after walking out of the bathroom.

"Armin, you have to stop thinking about them," my grandfather said as I walked into the kitchen, sniffling. My smaller than average body began shaking a little as I picked up an apple from the fruit basket.

Why did they have to die?

"Grandpa, they're gone. Mom and Dad aren't coming back. I'm not forgetting it. And that support group you're sending me to won't help me forget," I whispered, looking down at my hands. With a shaky mouth, I took a small bite of the shiny red apple.

"You don't know until you go there."

"No, I do know. I know because sitting around with a bunch of strangers is totally not going to help me."

"Those people are going through the same thing you are, Armin," my grandfather insisted. "You can relate."

"Relate? Grandpa, I lost two people. I bet you the majority of people there only lost one," I whispered softly, biting my lip.

My grandfather sighed deeply, running his hand through his paled hair. 

"You're going to the support group. I already signed you up," he mumbled.

"I noticed," I mumbled back, wiping a tear from my cheek. 

"Hey," he said gently. "I bet you'll make a friend."

"Bet? Okay. I bet a billion dollars because that's not happening," I whispered again, sniffling.

He went silent after that.

I sighed and left the kitchen, walking up the stairs and flinching at every creak in the stair. My old house didn't have creaking in the boards. It made me think that I would fall through, and I didn't like that.

After opening the bedroom door, I flopped down onto my bed and pulled the blanket over my body, burying my face in my pillow, a shaky breath leaving my lips.

The support group isn't going to help me, it really won't. Talking has never really been my way of getting out my emotions. I preferred writing, because to me it was more therapeutic and calming. It was very cathartic, despite public opinion. Lots of people, I heard, don't like to write. 

After about fifteen minuets of me staring at my wall, a soft knock echoed through my room.

"Armin, you have to leave in a few minuets if you want to get there on time," my grandfather called. 

I don't want to go, Grandpa. Can't you just see that?

"Okay," I responded flatly.

"At least pretend that you're excited," he said through the door. 

I didn't respond, instead I threw the blankets off of my body and got out of bed. With a sigh, I took a step and suddenly winced. My foot ached with a slight pinch as I stepped on something hard and small. I looked down and my heart stung. It was my portable USB that I use to save my work on. Bending down, I put in my hands and began to examine it, only to find out it had a giant crack in it now.

I'll have to check and make sure I saved my stories to the computer too, because if I didn't, the work would be all gone.

At the thought, I let out a shaky breath and put the USB next to my laptop. I opened the bedroom door, not bothering to brush my hair or straighten my clothes. My blonde hair was probably as messy as it could get, but I could honestly not care less. It's not like anyone I care about is going to see me.

"Armin, you're not going out like that," my grandfather mumbled sternly as I was putting my shoes on. 

"Why?"

"You're a mess."

"When am I not?" I asked softly before giving him a hug and walking out the door.

The hot, sticky summer air made my clothes stick to my clothes and it felt gross, it really did. There were people jogging along the sidewalks, and I don't know how they could do that in this sweltering heat.

I gripped the handle bars of my bike and got on, beginning to ride off in the direction of the library, where these support groups were being held. Not really sure where I was going, I had to stop about five times to just figure where I was.

Now I was on the street I can't remember the name of. It had lots of houses on it, nice large ones, and I could hear the ocean waves from here.

As I was riding on my bike, my eye caught something in my peripheral vision coming towards my direction. Before I could turn my head to observe, the mysterious object hit the front wheel of my bike, causing me to lose control and fall over. My skin scraped against the concrete and I whimpered gently. 

I opened my eyes, only slightly because the sun was right above me, to see a face looming over mine. The sunlight around the face made it look angelic, the way it glistened off this person's skin made them look unreal. Once I got more focus, I saw bright green eyes staring into my own and chocolate brown hair falling over them. 

It took me a minuet to realize this boy was actually talking. 

"Can you hear me? You didn't hit your head, did you? Are you okay? Oh fuck, I didn't mean to hit you with my basketball, I'm sorry," he said, talking  
really fast.

I fluttered my eyes so I could get better vision and sat up slightly. This person never took his eyes off of mine and let me just say that his eyes were magnificent.

"I-I think I'm okay. Just some scrapes here and there," I whispered, still looking at his eyes.

"Some scrapes? Dude, your arm is bleeding," the brunet boy said. I looked down and realized he was right. I touched it gently and winced from the sting.

"It's nothing," I mumbled, trying to stand up.

He held his hand out to me, offering help. I was hesitant before taking it, using his help to stand.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized again. "I don't see any other cuts on you. Do you want me to fix up your arm?"

"I'll be fine, but thank you," I whispered again. "I have to get going, I'm gonna be late to something."

"Oh, yeah, me too."

"Cool."

There was a sort of awkward silence where we just looked at each other, almost as if we were scared to say something.

"I'm sorry again," he said and I let out a small laugh. 

"You don't have to apologize anymore, I'm fine."

He helped me on my bike and I waved goodbye to him before riding off. My arm stung, but I'd be fine.

The beautiful green of the trees and the grass caught my eye. It reminded me of that boy's eyes. I had never seen such beautiful eyes before.

Mom had pretty eyes, and she knew it. Everyone would tell her. They'd tell her that her eyes were the color of the snow on top of the highest mountains, that they were the color of the Nile river. They really were a nice shade of blue, that's where I got my blue eyes from. But nobody ever said anything about my eyes. And plus, the Nile river always looked green in pictures to me, so I didn't care.

Too bad I don't know this boy's name.

I would like to talk to him again. Maybe I would ask him his name.

When I finally got to the library, I locked up my bike and walked inside. It was nice and cold compared to the hotness outside.

There was a sign pointing to a round table where many people were sitting. It didn't look like they had started yet so that was good. 

By the time I took a seat, a woman with strawberry blonde hair sat down in the biggest chair.

"Hello, everybody. We are all here today because each and every one of us has experienced something we wish we hadn't. Death of a loved one. Today, we are all going to introduce ourselves. Please say your name, age, one fact about you, and who you have lost," she explained. "I'll go first. My name is Petra Ral, I'm twenty-seven, I like to garden, and I lost my husband four years ago."

The next person stood and told their information. It was so rude of me, but I had already begun to zone out. But when the sixth person stood and began to speak, I snapped back into reality. 

Brunet boy was speaking.

It was the boy from earlier! 

"My name is Eren, I'm seventeen, and I lost my mother ten years ago. Since then, I've had bipolar disorder."

Eren.

Eren.

His name was just as magnificent as his eyes. 

Bipolar? By the way he acted when he knocked me over, I would never had guessed he had it.

When it was my turn, my stomach turned to lead and my body froze. I didn't stand like everyone else, but nobody seemed to object.

"My name is Armin. I'm sixteen, going to turn seventeen in a few months. I like to write. I lost both my parents about a month ago," I whispered, my voice cracking on almost every word.

When I was done, I noticed that Eren was staring at me, his head tilting to the side. I felt my cheeks heat up slightly when I remembered that I didn't brush my hair this morning, only because I knew I wasn't going to meet anybody.

Whoops.

After everybody had gone, the woman explained we were going to meet here every Monday and every Friday. 

So I guess I have to come back in like three days, considering today is Friday.

When we were dismissed, Eren came up to me, his hands behind his back.

"I'm sorry about your parents," he whispered.

"I'm sorry about your mom," I replied softly.

"Did you move here recently? I haven't seen you here at all."

"Um, yeah. I moved here a few weeks ago to live with my grandfather."

"Have you visited the ocean yet?"

"Not yet," I said and shrugged a little.

"Maybe I could show you sometime," he suggested. I smiled and gave him a nod.

"I would like that."

Suddenly, he removed his hands from behind his back.

He handed me a rose.

A beautiful dark red rose.

"As an apology for knocking you over. I still feel bad," Eren said quietly before walking away.

I sniffed the flower and turned my head to watch him leave.

Maybe roses were lovely flowers.


End file.
